Play Along Play Fair
by Karashi
Summary: When playing nice doesn't work, try playing along. But what do you do when life doesn't plan on playing fair? Just another 3-year-gap fic, but because it's also the sequel to Play Nice, expect to have some AU elements in it.
1. Worlds Apart

**Play Along / Play Fair**

 **Disclaimers:** Dragon Ball Z and its subsequent characters belong to Akira Toriyama, I make no profit from this. Also, sequels are rarely as good as the original. Make of that what you will.

* * *

 **Prompt:** King's Request  
 **Chapter One:** Worlds Apart

 _He doesn't beg. He will_ never _beg. He is the Prince of Saiyans. He will endure the cutting jeers and taunts as silently as he does the blows from a pudgy, hard-knuckled pink fist, or the kicks from a boot-clad blue leg. But his resolve falters. Hate crackles across his mind not at the lashes from a long, white tail but at the nonchalant insults about allowing a useless Monkey such as he to live. He knows it's futile, he knows he is still far too young and inexperienced, but he can't help himself. He raises a hand and lets loose a ball of Ki at the white tyrant with painted lips._

And not for the first time did Bulma wake up to find herself sitting up in bed, her arm outstretched in the same manner as the boy in her dream, and the echoes of effeminate laughter in her ears. She pulled her arm back, wiping at the cold sweat beading her brow, grateful that she had no usable Ki. Her bedroom wall would have so many new windows otherwise.

She glanced at the luminescent face of the clock on her nightstand, groaning that it displayed half past three before she fell back onto her pillow. Why couldn't she have had another hour or two more? Even with the darkness behind the curtains of her bedroom windows there was no way she was going to fall asleep _now_. Not when the dreams left her too keyed up to go back to sleep.

Because they weren't dreams. They were nightmares only worse because they actually happened.

They were the Saiyan Vegeta's memories and the man didn't exactly have the easiest or happiest of childhoods. Somehow, she couldn't help but resent the knowledge that she accidentally gained. It made her feel guilty for hating him. Even if she had every right to hate the bastard for killing her friends and family, oh and for purging Earth too but hey, she wasn't exactly the poster child for altruism.

Ever since they met on that Planet Base he'd insulted her, threatened her, rough-handled her. And worst of all, through some weird twist of fate, he'd protected her and had given her the opportunity to save her world. But what goodwill that warranted him was rendered null and void when the voice she'd eventually come to acknowledge as her own unguarded feelings reminded her how _Earth shouldn't have needed saving in the first place!_

Kami but this whole thing was complicated.

So she fell back on something simpler and easier, like hating Zarbon. Him she could hate without worry or regret. The emerald-haired alien had started it all when he offered Earth's salvation in exchange for her technical know how. Then he tried to seduce her, played her for a fool, and when she realized she'd been tricked, she called him out on it. Only he'd- she grimaced at her own memory this time, ignoring the phantom pain of multiple compound fractures and ruptured organs, focusing instead on how she ended up building training equipment that honed the skills of heartless mercenaries and Soldiers like a certain Prince of Saiyans-

"Oh fuck it, here we go again," she muttered, pressing her hands against her face as her thoughts came full circle. That it was _months_ since one of these dreams surfaced did give her some comfort. At least it meant her mind was gradually working through the Saiyan's memories and she wouldn't have to worry about suddenly adopting his odd mannerisms from out of nowhere.

She sighed in embarrassment at the recollection.

 _Using schematics she smuggled from the alien Planet Base, she recreated Ki-shields and roped her friends into helping her test them out. Krillin and Yamcha stuck to her instructions well enough but Goku being Goku went overboard and not only broke the prototype but_ disintegrated _it by accident. She should have just laughed off seeing her oldest friend destroy her work. Except something about a Saiyan wrecking something she worked so hard on had touched an unexpectedly raw nerve._

 _She was never so glad that ChiChi kept Gohan home that day because she was swearing the air blue for about a good five minutes. Goku simply stared at her in confusion, which prompted even more cussing until Krillin coughed to hide his laughter and Yamcha asked if she needed a lozenge or a glass of water. Apparently she wasn't so much as cursing as growling and sounding like she'd swallowed a very angry bear that was now trying to claw its way out of her throat._

Realizing just what she'd been doing, she faked a coughing fit to divert their attention and sent the scarred fighter to fetch her something to drink. She could have explained that she'd been speaking Saiyan but that meant explaining how she managed to learn it. And she never wanted to go into the details of how exactly she'd saved Earth beyond "I got to planet Namek and they let me use their Dragon Balls."

Bulma was grateful her friends at the time didn't press her for more information. They didn't have to know what she went through, the deals she made, or the things she'd done to reach her goal. She was back home and she'd saved the day. Wasn't that what mattered?

Except Piccolo wasn't one of her friends. Not technically. Yes, he teamed up with Goku to fight off Radditz, and according to Krillin joined the rest of the Z Fighters when the Saiyans came. So maybe it _was_ a little unfair for her to resent Piccolo for asking her how exactly she managed to get to Planet Namek. But pardon her for being a bit miffed that the alien doubted her abilities of getting shit done.

 _"Fine! I had to promise Vegeta he could have a wish on Earth's Dragon Balls." She glowered defensively at everyone, "I had no choice, okay? It was either that or I kiss any chance of saving you all goodbye."_

 _"And how did you manage to be rid of him?"_

 _"I used my feminine wiles on him." (Yamcha nearly choked on his own tongue.) "Okay! Bad joke, bad joke! He got his ass handed to him when we arrived at Planet Namek and while he was being healed, I may have, um, lied to him about the Namek's Dragon Balls being gone. And when we bailed for Earth, I left Vegeta behind to deal with Frieza."_

 _"Who's Frieza?" Goku asked._

 _"A great evil," the Grand Elder interrupted. "But I feel that we needn't worry about him."_

 _"Does that mean neither this Frieza nor Vegeta are gonna come to Earth?" Krillin grinned hopefully._

 _"Slack off if that appeals to you," Piccolo sneered, "I intend to train in preparation for their arrival."_

 _Goku nodded, uncharacteristically grim, hands balling into tight fists, "We'll make up for losing to the Saiyans, one way or another. We won't let anything happen to Earth again!"_

 _The Grand Elder had been kind enough to unlock the Z Fighters' hidden potential. Though both Bulma and Dende tensed when the Grand Elder mentioned that a mental barrier prevented Goku and Gohan from fully awakening._

 _"But they've, I mean,_ everyone's _gotten a lot stronger, right?" the heiress hastily asked the Grand Elder, silently begging him not to say anything else._

 _"Relax, babe," Yamcha grinned, slinging an arm protectively around her shoulders and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "I know you can't feel Ki but believe me when I say ours went up like crazy."_

 _Bulma forced herself to smile back despite the guilt knotting in her gut. She felt a small hand give hers a reassuring squeeze. Looking down, she found Dende staring up at her solemnly._

 _"It's going to be okay, short stuff," she murmured to him. And if it wasn't, then by Kami she was going to find a way to_ make _it okay._

Bulma could hardly believe it's been a year since the Nameks left for their new homeworld. Dende had offered to give her the coordinates to their new planet but she was adamant about maintaining her ignorance. In the end, the young Namek gave the information to Kami.

"Just in case," the child had smiled.

Her father had complained about how he'd lost the finest golf players he'd ever met. Her mother sadly remarked that Capsule Corp suddenly felt so empty but amended that it was, "Not as empty as when you first left, sweetie."

With a sigh, Bulma decided that since she was too awake to go back to sleep, she might as well do something productive. She got up, changed out of her pajamas, and headed for her private lab.

* * *

Elsewhere in the vast universe, there was begging, and bargaining, and threatening, though none of which seemed to matter to the figure sitting on a large throne seemingly carved out of petrified bone. The massive white seat, clearly meant for someone easily three times the stature of the current occupant, dwarfed the Saiyan. But he sat with his back ramrod straight, regal and unperturbed with the awkward difference in sizes. He stared impassive at the aliens gathered before him.

"Care to repeat that?" he asked calmly, turning one palm upward.

The gesture had the aliens shrinking back, save for the most vocal representative of the bunch: a brown-furred rodent.

"You heard me!" she squeaked, red beady eyes narrowed in defiance. "Frieza was a fool to disregard my people as mere cannon fodder or a viable food source! And you would be one too if that's all you intend to relegate us as. We can be so much more to the Planet Trade Organization!"

"As what, pray?" Vegeta's smirk suggested he used the word _prey_ instead.

The rodent bristled, nose twitching at the threat and insult, but she stood her ground. "As technicians! It's no secret that warriors are welcomed by the droves but how many of them can fully utilize their equipment?"

"The organization isn't interested in wasting resources just so the weak can live," the Saiyan scoffed. "If a warrior or mercenary were to fall in battle due to their own incompetence then they _deserved_ to die."

"Then what of your ships and medical instruments? Are they operating at their optimum efficiency? My people's dexterity and knack with constructs should more than make up for our lack of physical strength. Give us a chance to prove ourselves! Or are you just as blind and ignorant as Frieza was?"

A Ki sphere suddenly formed in Vegeta's hand and all but the rodent alien scattered to take cover behind a pillar. Over a year ago, being compared to his hated nemesis would have resulted in him letting loose the concentrated energy without a second thought. But after attaining his destiny of ascension, slaying Frieza with his own hands, and becoming the current leader of the PTO, the Saiyan Prince developed some level of restraint. And though he would deny it to hell and back, the rodent's courage reminded him of a certain blue-haired Earthling.

But before his thoughts could dwell on the woman, the lanky four-eyed Bas standing to his right coughed, "Shall I reschedule your meeting with King Cold?"

"That won't be necessary, Jerold. This audience will be over soon," the Saiyan answered as he snuffed out the sphere. He fixed his attention back to the rat-like alien, "You got nerve making such a statement so I will grant your planet a stay of execution. If you can prove you're not simply overestimating your abilities or lying through your teeth, I _might_ be willing to spare your pitiful world."

The remaining representatives emerged from behind their hiding places, talking all at once to try and plead for their homes. Vegeta silenced them with a look, his eyes hard and unimpressed, "Don't waste my time begging for mercy. Swearing fealty to me means _nothing_ unless you give me a reason not to have your world purged."

And he listened carefully, was completely stoic while he contemplated their offered skill sets, equally expressionless when he meted out his decision. Wails of despair echoed in the audience room as guards forcibly escorted the representatives into an antechamber. There, an avian alien was waiting with a list of planets willing to house refugees, albeit with rather unfair stipulations that usually meant becoming slave labor. Some might argue that the alternative of certain extinction was the lesser of two evils, but at least they were given a choice. It was more than what they would have gotten under Frieza's rule.

Restructuring the PTO took longer than Vegeta anticipated, acclimating to the less physical aspects of the organization forced him to remain on planet Tsiru for more than a year. The planet was large but its sun was small and cast a pale light that made the landscape look as if it existed in a state of perpetual winter. It made the Saiyan long for warmer climes and brighter panoramas.

And with the populace weaker than the former ruling house, Vegeta's training options were severely limited. Especially when it turned out that none of Cold's progeny had ever bothered to train or hone their fighting skills. That the Tsirunian royal family mostly owed their monstrous strength to mutations in their genes both appalled and infuriated the Saiyan Prince whenever he itched for a proper spar.

He definitely saw the appeal of delegating these sorts of responsibilities to Cold as Frieza had done, to take a ship and fly off elsewhere to purge worlds or quell rebellions. But Vegeta had more discipline than that. Besides, now and again, something interesting would happen. Attempts on his life for example.

 _Vegeta was surprised that he arrived at planet Tsiru without incident. He'd sent word to King Cold that he was on his way to discuss the current structure of the Planet Trade Organization and had expected Frieza's father would try to shoot the battle cruiser down. Or make an attempt to take him prisoner upon landing. Or show some form of hostility._

 _But the Tsirunian was waiting for him with open arms and an ostentatious display in the docking bay, complete with showers of confetti, their bright colors a stark contrast to the sterile hues of planet Tsiru. A row of royal guards lined the path leading to where Cold waited and as soon as the battle cruiser's engines shut off, a red carpet was rolled out._

 _The Saiyan didn't doubt the fanfare was meant to lull him into a false sense of security. Vegeta never had the opportunity to meet the Tsirunian King before, but Cold was Frieza's father and therefore could not be trusted._

 _"Welcome, Vegeta," Cold greeted as the Saiyan alighted from the battle cruiser and began walking down the long red carpet. "I trust your journey was a restful one?"_

 _"It was acceptable," he answered, eyes narrowed in suspicion at the towering, horned alien._

 _"I've taken the liberty of preparing a feast for your arrival. We have much to discuss," Cold smiled._

 _Vegeta was led to a great hall where the aforementioned feast awaited. Ever cautious, he made certain someone else sampled the food before taking a generous portion, much to Cold's amusement._

 _"Fret not, Saiyan, I bear you no ill-will for killing my son. In fact I'm thankful you managed to eliminate him!"_

 _Wordlessly Vegeta began to eat, though he was suspicious at the declaration of gratitude. He'd heard that Frieza was the favored son. But there were also rumors that Cold was terrified of his children's monstrous strength and this display certainly suggested they weren't entirely baseless._

 _"Don't think for a moment I won't hesitate on dealing you the same fate, old one," Vegeta warned._

 _Cold's eye twitched slightly but the pleasant smile never faltered. "Of course, of course, the strong do deserve to survive but you should consider including the_ wise _to that list. My son kept me alive for a reason and I can assure you it was_ not _out of filial piety."_

 _The Saiyan sensed the approach of five large Ki signatures but made no indication of his awareness. Instead, he glowered, "Cut to the chase, old one, what can you possibly offer me that I should spare your worthless life?"_

 _"Impatient are we? Very well then, I manage the day to day affairs of the Planet Trade Organization while my sons handled the fun jobs, such as acquisitions and ridding the organization of dead ends," Cold explained with a wry smirk. "Sitting in audience chambers, presiding over diplomatic disputes between clients, looking over contracts before signing them, such tasks would not fit someone of your strength and battle prowess."_

 _"In other words you think I'm merely an uneducated brute and you don't believe I am capable of ruling as a proper King," Vegeta translated, his Ki flaring just as the doors to the great hall burst open with excessive aplomb._

 _Both Cold and Vegeta turned in surprise, not so much at the sudden arrival but because of the accompanying fanfare that continued playing long after five aliens entered._

 _"Pre-sen-ting!" a voice boomed in time to the music, signaling the aliens to shift into a series of poses and bark out their names in precise cadence. They ended with a tableau and simultaneously declaring "The Ginyu Force!" to an audience stunned into silence._

 _The Tsirunian royal was first to recover and began to applaud, "Bravo, Captain Ginyu! Your choreography is even more impressive than when I last saw them!"_

 _"You honor me, King Cold," Ginyu bowed with a flourish while his team behind him took a knee in respect. The purple alien gave a smirk and suddenly launched himself forward, drawing his arm back to strike, only to be impaled through the chest in midair by a small, gloved fist._

 _"C-Captain Ginyu!" the rest of the squad gasped. In the next instant, energy exploded, spraying the great hall with a fine azure mist and opening up the position of squad leader._

 _"Is this it?" Vegeta sneered, letting out a pulse of Ki to clean his hand of Ginyu's blood. "And here I heard Captain Ginyu was quite the powerful fighter and feared throughout the galaxy. Is your ridiculous poses the real source of terror?"_

 _The remaining members of the special task force could only gawp in disbelief, until the red-skinned Brench turned his gaze towards Cold, "Your Majesty what-" the rest of his words were cut off by the ferocious glower the Tsirunian leveled at him._

 _Cold seethed in his seat for but an instant before he was once again all pleasant smiles and gracious host. "What an incredible display of strength! It truly is no wonder that you were able to kill Frieza."_

 _It was almost sad, Vegeta mused, how desperate Cold was to throw suspicion off of him. The old lizard must truly think the Prince of Saiyans was an ignorant muscle-brained idiot. It was sorely tempting to burn a hole right into Cold's smug face, but that would only prove the senior tyrant correct. As loath as Vegeta was to admit it, with acquisitions and purging missions the extent of his experience, there were aspects to the PTO that he had never been privy to. He'll play along and spare Cold but only as long as it took to adjust the PTO to his liking._

 _As for the rest of the Ginyu Force, the Saiyan gave them his full attention and a sinister grin._

It was disappointing that none of them dared to challenge him but after his brief demonstration of power, Vegeta supposed it couldn't be helped. He'd assigned them a mission, something that struck at their reputation rather than at their lives. That their efforts have proven fruitless the past year came as no surprise to Vegeta.

He knew he ought to forget about old debts being repaid but his pride wouldn't let him. Not when he remembered her slim arms propping him onto his feet and her audacity to pull him back from the threshold of death as if she expected nothing in return.

The search was for _his_ sake, not hers.

And in the interim, he had other things to keep him preoccupied. Take now, for instance, when he was about to deal with Cold. The elder Tsirunian strode into the audience chamber without his usual handful of bodyguards, either as a show of trust or a ruse to get Vegeta to lower his defenses. Somehow, the Saiyan doubted it was the former.

"How kind of you to see me on such short notice," Cold gave a practiced smile and a bow.

"You said it was urgent. Have any of the older clients been giving you trouble?"

"Oh no, they're quite amicable with the organization's current standing and I'm certain they will continue to be even after you accept my proposal." Despite Vegeta narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Cold went on, "Since your arrival on planet Tsiru, I've transitioned from monarch and absolute ruler to a mere figure head."

And here the Saiyan interrupted with a sneer, "No less than when Frieza was alive."

Cold ignored the dig, "I have decided that it would be best that I abdicate my throne. My people are accustomed to having a strong ruler and I can think of no one stronger and more fitting to become King of Tsiru than you. After all, with Planet Vegeta gone, where else would you rule?"

The destruction of his homeworld, so casually mentioned, had the Saiyan Prince's temper flare and black hate stir in his breast. He may have gotten his revenge on the Tsirunian who destroyed his world but old grudges died hard and he refused to be tied down to the wretched planet that spawned Frieza. He would sooner destroy Tsiru than take up permanent residence here.

"What you do with your title is none of my concern. The worlds under Frieza's control have already acknowledged me and I have added more to that number. When I ascend the throne to become King, it will not be on this frozen wasteland."

"But Vegeta-"

"This meeting is _over_. Leave now before I throw you out myself," Vegeta snarled out with every ounce of restraint he could muster. And as he watched Cold's retreating figure, the Saiyan decided it was time he stepped up with his plans.

* * *

In her private laboratory, Bulma tried to clear her mind and focus on her personal project, which to her disappointment wasn't progressing as fast as she would have liked.

Oh sure, she had all that alien alloy from the spacecraft she'd built and used to get to planet Namek. And even after the designs for the ship's hyper-engines were adjusted to fit Earth's level of technology, they were still powerful enough to impress her father. In fact, they used the designs in the newest models of air-cars, which got the media off her back about her "sabbatical" and made Capsule Corp even richer and more influential in one fell swoop.

And she'd managed to reverse engineer the Ki-dampening collars, recreate blueprints for cloaking devices, and even managed to launch a surveillance satellite system while juggling her Capsule Corp responsibilities. She'd been a busy heiress the past year and a half since Earth was revived.

But spending nearly a year and a half on an alien Planet Base had in some ways spoiled her. She knew what she wanted to work on but she didn't have the necessary materials for optimized construction. The problem wasn't a lack of resources but a lack of the _best_ resources. Despite being run ragged and at the beck and call of a certain Saiyan, the Planet Base had a wider selection of tools, a massive inventory available to the higher-ranked engineers, and she was surrounded by some of the most brilliant minds in the universe.

She was sure if she could just bounce ideas off of the right people, she'd find a workaround with the energy issue she was having with her latest prototype. The heiress had asked her father, but Dr. Briefs hadn't been too keen on building weapons and it left her at square one. Oh there were undoubtedly other brilliant people on Earth who could ferret out a solution, but the fewer people who knew about her little safety measure, the better. She'd already cannibalized the Ki-dampening collars' fuel source but the synthesized materials and Earth-found substitutes weren't cutting it. As it was, only her Ki-nullifying gun had its original power cells intact and she wasn't going to touch that. Partly out of sentimental value because it had saved her ass on more than one occasion, but mostly out of necessity because paranoia was a hard thing to shake off.

Just before she returned home, Bulma had done everything she could to hide Earth from the Planet Trade Organization. She'd changed her world's coordinates in their database, modified the records to show the planet was purged and no longer had any inherent worth. Short of deleting all mention of Earth (and planet Namek) it was the best she could manage without drawing suspicion.

Still, she couldn't let her guard down, couldn't relax and believe her planet truly was safe because some part of her inexplicably knew _he_ was still out there. Was he searching for her or the Nameks? Or had he forgotten all about them? It was probably the latter because what more could he possibly want?

But again, paranoia was a hard thing to shake off. So she was going to concentrate on making this work. She'd gotten into the zone and irritably glanced up when someone began knocking at the door. The last person she expected to find on the other side was Yamcha, especially since, well, it was over between them.

 _Maybe it had been over for years and she just didn't want to admit it. But they tried to make it work anyway, during the first few months after Earth's resurrection. She clung to what had been her teenage notions of love and romance. He tried to pick up where they'd left off and reconcile their differences. And at first it seemed to work. Yamcha was affectionate and attentive but it eventually felt smothering rather than sweet, like he was desperate to make up for allowing Zarbon to take her. Never mind that it had been Bulma's decision to leave. She, in response, was less demanding but it also made her more distant._

 _The familiarity between them was gone and what they had instead was tense and awkward. She never admitted to Yamcha how rarely she thought of him while she was on the Planet Base. He never asked about what had happened to her there, apparently eager to bury the past and start anew._

 _Sometimes, Bulma tried to open up, but whenever she thought she could finally tell him the whole story, the words died in her throat. Maybe if he'd pressed her a little harder she might have told him everything. But he didn't, probably under the notion of being supportive and patient, or probably because he was afraid of what he'd hear._

 _The moment kept slipping farther and farther out of reach until it was too late._

 _In the end, she broke it off with him permanently. She'd been hoping he'd be relieved but it seemed to have blind-sided him. Kami, the look on his face, the pain twisting his scarred features was worse than when Nappa had crushed his heart. It made her want to take it back, to pretend it was a really terrible, awful prank, except she couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to him. She cared for him, loved him even, but it wasn't the same sort of love she once had for him. They'd changed too much and they couldn't give each other what they wanted or needed._

 _It took him moving out of Capsule Corporation and several, long, awkward months apart before they could become friends again. He'd cut his hair short and went back to wearing his orange gi. It made Bulma liken him to a rom-com heroine, and she giggled picturing him going through a moving-on make-over montage. The tension between them eventually faded away, replaced by a comfortable understanding, though there were still times when she wondered_ What If?

But that still didn't explain what Yamcha was doing knocking at her laboratory door this early in the morning. A glance at the clock revealed that it was not quite morning insomuch as a quarter to noon. "Holy shit it's that time already!?" she gasped, opening the door and snapping angrily, "Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"I tried!" He countered with a frown, holding up his phone with her number flashing on the screen. "You weren't picking up."

Belatedly did Bulma realize that she'd left her phone in her bedroom. "Shit, sorry," she said, running her fingers through her aqua hair in frustration. "Why didn't you just get momma or poppa to call me?"

"Your mother's busy in the kitchen and your dad's working on some huge machine," he shrugged, tucking his phone back into a pocket.

"Don't tell me Goku's already polished off most of the food," she smirked as she locked up her lab.

"Alright, I won't," Yamcha said. He chuckled as she gave him a playful swat on the shoulder. "Hey, don't sweat it, Piccolo's got him handled and besides, ChiChi said she'll be here in ten minutes."

"Which is like ten years to Goku when he's hungry," the heiress laughed.

Out of habit, they fell in step with each other, each pretending that they didn't notice their easy gait as they made their way towards Capsule Corporation's large atrium where the rest of the Z Fighters were waiting. Oolong, Puar, Master Roshi, even Yajirobe (who Bulma was pretty sure wasn't invited) had shown up. But getting the less sociable members of the group to make an appearance had been no easy feat. Thank Kami for Chiaotzu knowing what to say to get Tien to leave their isolated home and not even Piccolo could deny ChiChi's demands whenever Gohan was involved.

As Yamcha said, Goku was behaving himself around the generous spread of food, less because of Krillin's constant reminders to wait for their guest of honor and more because it gave Piccolo an excuse to knock him down. It wasn't long until there came the rumble of an approaching air-car and everyone went along with hiding and masking their Ki.

Ox King's voice boomed as he theatrically asked Gohan to go ahead and let Bulma know they've arrived. When the demi-Saiyan opened the atrium doors, there was a collective cheer of "Happy Birthday Son Gohan!" and clapping. The succeeding declaration that lunch was finally served got an even louder cheer especially from the Sons, but Bulma was not surprised in the least.

What did surprise Bulma was how, just after Bunny wheeled in a monster of a birthday cake, an alarm suddenly blared throughout the compound. The Z Fighters went silent in concern but the heiress jerked her head up at the sound. Without another word, she was out of the atrium like a shot, ignoring the calls from her friends as she headed for her laboratory in a dead run.

"No, no, no, no," she chanted, hoping against hope that whatever had caused the alarm was just a glitch or that she'd somehow forgotten to reset some parameters. Trembling hands unlocked the door and fingers rapidly typed at the console. But it wasn't a glitch nor was it a test. What the monitor showed was real.

And what the monitor showed were one-man pods breaking into the Earth's atmosphere.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Yes, _Play Along / Play Fair_ is a sequel so it might be best to have read _Play Nice_ first but I hope I've established enough things that new readers won't be completely lost. I wasn't certain I'd write this fic until I saw the prompts from the _Unnatural Lovers Royal_ challenge. Thank you so much to **jennifer975** for recommending _Play Nice_ to the _We're Just Saiyan_ community and for all your lovely reviews! Thank you to my Ideas Taster for letting me word-vomit at them and for naming the Bas OC.


	2. Inevitable Betrayal

**Prompt:** Finding the Enemy  
 **Chapter Two:** Inevitable Betrayal

A series of beeps echoed in the small space until they pulled the small Bas out of cryo-sleep. He rubbed at his primary pair of eyes while the secondary pair atop his head blinked groggily at the planet coming into view. Any minute now, he anticipated for the comm. link to crackle to life, and when it did from the speakers came a deep voice, "Hey, Guldo, little buddy, you awake?"

"Just about, Recoome," he yawned, grateful that his short stature gave him room within the confines of his one-man fighter pod to stretch his arms and legs.

"Do you think that's the planet Vegeta wanted us to find?"

Guldo's face soured at the mention of the Saiyan. "Hmph. I hope so. My body's getting really stiff from just sitting around and doing nothing."

"Well, even if it isn't we can probably have some fun on _this_ planet. The pod's scanners indicate sentient life," a reptilian voice said. "Far too many for it to have been purged."

"Nice idea there, mate! The last few planets were right duds. It's been way too long since we last let off some steam," a third voice chimed in.

"Oh goodie! Burter and Jeice are game too!" Recoome happily cheered and the Bas could almost see the burly bruiser clapping his hands in delight.

"Let's pick a heavily populated area to land. That way we have more targets to play with," Guldo grinned as he leaned back, hoping that the unsuspecting planet would have some warriors to fight against. They could certainly use a good laugh.

Of course it meant a slight delay from their mission but it was a welcomed one. Because as far as they were concerned, what they were given wasn't a mission.

 _They couldn't believe it at first. One minute they were on their knees, watching their leader make the first move and waiting for the signal to move into battle formation. The next a gloved hand was peeking through Captain Ginyu's back._

 _It had to be a trick, or a practical joke their fearless leader was playing on them. There was no way a weakling like Vegeta could move that fast or be that strong. A split-second later there was a flash of light then blood was everywhere and on everyone. Though Burter was their team's speedster, Jeice was always the fastest when it came to figuring out how you get out of situations alive._

 _Even though Cold had been the one to hire them to dispatch Vegeta, the Tsirunian obviously wasn't going to help them out. Not after witnessing how easy it had been for the Saiyan to kill Captain Ginyu. The malevolence in Vegeta's grin made it clear that if they didn't want to share in their former leader's fate they had to swear fealty to him. The whole thing left a really horrible taste in Guldo's mouth in particular but he managed to bite back his contempt. At least long enough to keep himself from following Ginyu into the afterlife. He had the greatest respect for the horned alien but not at the cost of his own life._

 _Their oaths of allegiance didn't seem to convince the Saiyan because he scoffed, "You can't expect me to believe you'd truly follow me."_

 _"W-what can we do to prove our loyalty?" Jeice asked._

 _The cruel grin on the Saiyan's face did not bode well. "It's a relatively simple task, one a squad of your caliber should have no difficulty with."_

 _"And that would be?"_

 _"I want you to find a certain blue planet called Earth."_

 _"Shouldn't there be details in the database?" Burter pointed out._

 _"You're welcome to use the coordinates in the records, though I wouldn't be surprised if it's been... compromised," Vegeta chuckled seemingly from a private joke. "You'll find that the world has been purged but don't be surprised if there's still life on it."_

 _"Shall we complete the purging then?" So far, it didn't sound too bad of a mission. The surviving indigenous race might have proven more resilient than initially anticipated and SADs were sometimes entertaining._

 _"No, do not exterminate any squatters you might find there," and at this Vegeta's eyes took a hard gleam. "I want them alive."_

 _"Ah so it's a retrieval mission then?" Still, not too bad, SARs could be enjoyable given the right target. And there were many things you could do to someone and still have them still be considered alive._

 _"No, leave them be. I only want the coordinates. I will deal with them myself."_

And so here they were, over a year later, nearly a dozen planets visited, and absolutely no fucking clue what was so important about it or where the hell it was. Vegeta didn't bother giving them any additional details, like which fucking _direction_ they should head for example or any identifying features of the squatters. It was a fool's errand, a tedious monotony, and a horrible blow to their group's proud name. They were feared throughout the galaxy, Master Frieza's special task force, legions of aliens quaked at the name of Ginyu Force.

How far they've fallen.

Captain Ginyu would never have stood for such an assignment. Guldo was certain that their purple leader would be turning in his grave if he knew that his squad of highly trained killers had been reduced to playing hide-and-seek. The Bas fighter seethed as he leaned back and braced himself for planet-fall, already thinking of how he would vent his frustrations on the natives.

Their fighter pods broke through the atmosphere with little trouble and crashed into a metropolis, sending tremors rocking across the planet. Rubble and smoking craters were all that were left of the buildings and houses. They waited for the dust to clear, for silence, and of course for curious groups to huddle around their spacecrafts because timing was very important. One didn't simply _hope_ to make a dramatic entrance. It was something that required care and preparation and forethought.

Through his scouter, Guldo heard Jeice's command of "Now!" and all four simultaneously emerged to greet the surviving crowd. They soared up into the sky, somersaulting, twisting in midair, performing all sorts of acrobatic feats before landing smartly on the ground. It would have been so much more impressive if they had some background music but you could only prepare for so much.

At least the natives had the good taste to applaud. Then someone, probably the local authorities, ruined the whole thing by elbowing their way to the front to declare the Ginyu Force under arrest. Their scouters indicated pitiful power levels but then again, they were only here to blow some steam off.

And blow stuff up.

* * *

The Ginyu Force had to hand it to the local populace. These creatures might not know how to put up a good fight or manage to run fast enough to be a decent hunt, but there were a lot of them. With the Ginyu Force's rotten mood, quantity was looking to trump quality.

Up until the scouters detected a small handful of individuals heading their way.

"There's seven of them, and huh not a bad reading for such a backwater world. They're in the lower thousands though," Jeice said.

"What say we go greet them?" Recoome was already rushing ahead with deceptive grace for such a large burly man. But despite the head start, Burter quickly caught up and even zoomed past the orange-haired humanoid with a sneer of "Last one there gets the last shot in!"

Which meant Guldo had to make use of his time-stopping ability. His psychic talents were what attracted Frieza's attention and gotten him assigned to the prestigious task force and he wasn't above using whatever advantage he had to win a fight. Or more often the games his teammates proposed. Still, the Bas only managed to arrive second to the speedster, with Recoome a close third, and Jeice bringing up the rear.

The seven fighters awaiting them were an odd bunch, oddest still was "What's a Namekian doing here?"

An orange-clad native with spiky black hair declared, "We don't know who you are or why you're here but if you leave now, we won't destroy you."

But because the scouters showed power levels barely reaching past five thousand, the Ginyu Force couldn't help but laugh at the audacity.

"Oh it's always a right hoot when we land on some ignorant planet. Setting you lot straight'll be a real treat!"

"We've warmed up enough so now it's time we had some real fun!"

And without prompting, they went into a routine of stances and gestures that introduced these poor fools to their executioners. For several long seconds they remained in their fighting pose, giving the yokels time to appreciate the intricacies of their choreography and allow the complexity of their positions to sink in.

Among the dumbstruck faces, it was the scarred one who broke the silence with "These guys are idiots."

"Those sure are some fancy moves they got there," the bald one said, the sarcasm completely going over the Ginyu Force's head.

"We'll be happy to show you more. Up close and personal, even!" Recoome was suddenly in front of the scarred one and had thrown a punch for his jaw. But the big bruiser's knuckle struck open palms rather than a chin. Though momentum and the follow through of his strike lifted the short-haired warrior off the ground, Recoome's opponent somersaulted midair and brought the heel of a dark boot down. It connected with the back of the carrot top's head with a sharp crack, toppling him face-down into the dirt.

"Oy, Recoome, what was that about?" Jeice demanded as his teammate rose and shook himself clean.

"I dunno, mebbe I'm just rusty?"

"Or we're a lot stronger than we look," the three-eyed man said.

"If you four are quite done playing at clowns," the Namekian stepped forward, throwing his white cape over his shoulder and letting it billow in the wind. Guldo had to hand it to the green man. Despite the low power level the scouter indicated, the Namekian sure had a flair for dramatics- "I'll take all four of you on right now." -and apparently a great sense of humor.

"I'm game to oblige you, boyo," Jeice cracked his knuckles eagerly.

"No, I got here first so _I_ should get the first fight," Burter protested.

"But Recoome already jumped out of turn so I don't see why we can't just have an all-out brawl," Guldo said and drew a breath to freeze time. He'd apparently done so at the right moment as all four eyes focused on the elbow a hair's breadth away from his gut. The short bald fighter had taken the initiative all of a sudden and had come close to striking him.

A part of him was tempted to let it hit then he would show off by remaining completely immobile to show how little it affected him before countering it. But he decided that that was more of Recoome's style. The Bas instead ran off to a safe distance before allowing time to pass again when his secondary pair of eyes alerted him to a sneak attack from the white, floating doll-like fighter.

 _Fine,_ Guldo smirked as laser points shot from his eyes, finding their mark and exploding on contact. He laughed at the pained, child-like squeal and continued firing, until he heard an angry growl and something or someone eclipsed him. His secondary eyes swiveled back, shooting beams in retaliation at the three-eyed man looming over him. But to Guldo's disbelief he missed every time.

Focus and vision divided between two targets, the Bas was getting dizzy. He opened his mouth to once again stop time when a sense of pressure bore down on him, flattening him to the ground and breaking several bones in the process.

Guldo wasn't down for the count, not by a long shot. He was just playing dead, that's all! Yeah, he was waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike and turn the tides of the battle. I-it's not like he was letting his stronger, faster, more experienced teammates handle their confusingly strong opponents.

From his pseudo-grave, Guldo feigned unconsciousness and listened to the sounds of flesh striking flesh, of limbs cutting empty air, and the grunts of blows hitting true. Explosions rocked the ground, and when he felt a surge of heat heading his way, he risked a peek and promptly stopped time. He probably should have done something to make the burning figure of Burter more comfortable but the Bas could only hold his breath for so long.

Instead, he climbed out of the rut, trying not to gasp in pain when he felt his broken bones grind from the movement, or cry out at the sight of his other teammates struggling against aliens with such low power levels.

 _What was going on?_ He wondered, crawling into one of the dozen or so craters that had formed throughout the battle. Fire lanced through his injured limbs as he covered himself in dirt as camouflage before finally breathing again.

Eventually it occurred to Guldo that he didn't know what sort of aliens they were up against, well apart from the Namekian but that one didn't count. As the sounds of battle died down, Guldo strained to listen as the presumed leader of the natives asked, "Had enough?" He didn't even sound winded!

"Th-this is _impossible_ ," Jeice spat in outrage, "We are the Ginyu Force! Elite members of a special task unit! H-how could we lose to the likes of _you_?"

There was the boom of displaced air, a strangled groan from Recoome, and the dull thud of the burly Ginyu member dropping to the ground. Then the Namekian snarled in his deep baritone, "You underestimate the Earth too much."

All four of Guldo's eyes shot open, _Earth?_

It was Jeice who spoke the sentiment aloud, "What?! You mean _this_ is Earth? But it's not purged!"

"You don't even know where you are?" the Earthling leader sounded incredulous.

"More importantly you guys aren't here because Frieza sent you?" the short bald one asked.

"Master Frieza is dead!" the Brench snorted, "Even if he was still alive, he wouldn't _care_ about this miserable mudball. We've been looking for it on behalf of that wretched _Saiyan_."

"Saiyan? You don't mean Vegeta, do you?"

The note of fear in the Earthling's voice had Jeice grinning and tapping at his scouter, "Oh _ho_ , seems like we'll still have the last laugh, boyo!" But as he began to type in the current coordinates to send back to their base, a woman's voice coldly cut in through the shared comm. link, "Not on my watch."

Static blared out from every scouter on the battlefield, so loud and piercing even the Earthling fighters covered their ears before the devices exploded.

* * *

Bulma had breathed a sigh of relief when none of the fighter pods revealed a familiar face. So it was just another one of those typical alien invaders coming to conquer Earth deals? Okay, her friends can handle that. After all, they've been training like crazy since she wished everyone back to life, just in case Frieza or Vegeta showed up for whatever reason.

Less tense, she called everyone into her private lab to watch the fight or try to at least. The cameras could only capture explosions and project blurry images that were little more than blobs of color on the screen but what about the speakers? While the rest of the guests kept their eyes trained on the monitors, Bulma spent some time trying to hack into the alien's scouters.

Once again she thought about how having better gear would make this go a lot faster but she was a genius and eventually managed to tap into the communication line. Just in the nick of time for them to hear the red-skinned alien's shock of discovering they were on Earth.

A cold dread knotted in her gut as the conversation unfolded and she swallowed a scream at the mention that they were serving a Saiyan. On one of the monitors, a series of numbers began to display and the heiress felt her stomach plummet upon realizing what the alien was doing.

"Not on my watch," she said, fingers flying over the console to intercept the transmission and sending a little message of her own through the satellite system she'd launched. The speakers squealed from the ensuing static before going dead.

"What did you do, Bulma?" ChiChi asked.

"I just sent a signal that destroyed their scouters." She left it at that. "Now all the guys have to do is get rid of those aliens and Earth'll be safe again."

"Look! They've done it! They've won!" Ox King cheered. "That's my son-in-law!"

Bulma turned to the screens to find two fighter pods streaking across the sky and disappearing into the darkness of outer space.

"What the _fuck!?_ " The heiress shrieked. While the others celebrated and danced in victory, Bulma bolted out to the garage where she found ChiChi revving up a decapsulated air-car. The heiress clambered into the passenger seat, yelled "Floor it, ChiChi!" and strapped herself in.

The Son matron quirked a brow at the order but put the pedal to the metal anyway.

Without any traffic to contend with and the dark-haired woman's rush to get to her son, it was a short drive to the battlezone. Once there both women hurried over to where the Z Fighters were gathered. ChiChi had the advantage of being a martial artist and reached the group first, immediately fussing over Gohan then Goku without giving anyone else a second glance.

Bulma, on the other hand, greeted Earth's protectors with a furious snarl of "How could you let them escape?"

"Way to sound like a super villain, Bulma," Krillin teased.

And for once the heiress couldn't appreciate the former monk's humor. She leveled a ferocious glare at him, sending her bald friend stumbling backwards with the intensity of her gaze. The rage pouring out of her in waves seemed eerily reminiscent of a certain alien prince. "Do _any_ of you realize what you've done?" she asked, her wide blue eyes flint sharp and colder than anyone had ever seen them.

"We stopped Vegeta's men from causing more damage." Trust Piccolo to get to the heart of the matter while completely missing the poi- "But that's not what has you -how do you humans put it?"

"Pissed off as fuck," Yamcha supplied ("Language!" ChiChi said through grit teeth while covering Gohan's ears.)

"Yes, that. You're agitated about the Saiyan learning of our continued existence."

Alright so Piccolo had great insight but "If you already _knew_ that then why did you let them leave alive?"

"Because I asked him to," said Goku, earning him stares of disbelief from both ChiChi and Bulma.

"Goku why?" ChiChi asked.

"Are you out of your Kami damned mind? Wasn't being killed once enough for you?!"

"We're not the same as we were then."

"And do you think Vegeta is? Do you think he hasn't gotten _insanely_ strong since he purged Earth? I heard what the red guy said, Frieza is dead and you can bet your ass that Vegeta's the one who killed him!" Bulma shook in rage, blinking back the tears of frustration prickling her eyes. She was too worked up to see beyond her panic and anger to notice how the Z Fighters sported only minimal injuries, while the two alien invaders were in a much worse shape, aside from being very much dead that is.

"It doesn't matter if he's even stronger than ever, we have to fight him!" Goku argued.

"We or _you_?" ChiChi demanded softly as she held Gohan protectively close. "I love you Goku, I love your confidence and unshakable resolve, but there are times I wonder if you realize just how much your actions affects everyone."

"We share Goku's sentiments," Piccolo said.

ChiChi set hard eyes at the Namekian who'd kept her son from her for a year. The grim expression of her face was a clear indication that Piccolo would be the last person to ever sway her, "Again, we or _you_?"

"We." Tien's voice was soft and calm but the conviction in so short a syllable could have bent steel.

Bulma stared at the remaining Z Fighters, hoping that someone would have the sense to remember that she'd promised the Saiyan a wish on the Dragon Balls. When it became apparent that they've forgotten, "You're all going to let Vegeta have his wish?"

"It won't come to that, Ms. Bulma!" Gohan spoke up, "We'll never give the Dragon Balls to him."

Kami, it felt like talking to a brick wall! Or in this case, _several_ brick walls. "Right because that worked _so_ well last ti-"

"Enough of this!" Piccolo snapped, throwing his cloak over his shoulder as he turned his back to the group. "I care not if you humans wish to live cowering in fear of mere _possibilities_ but I intend to meet the threat head on." He took to the sky and flew off without a backward glance.

"Wait! Mr. Piccolo!" Gohan squirmed out of his mother's arms to fly after his mentor.

"Don't just stand there, Goku! Go make sure Gohan is safe!" ChiChi prodded at her husband and the look in her eyes spoke she wasn't going to expect them back anytime soon.

Tien and Chiaotzu quietly excused themselves, which left Krillin and Yamcha. The heiress sighed in reluctant acceptance at the pair. "Go on. Get back to your training or whatever, I know you want to."

Yamcha reached out to sling an arm around Bulma's shoulder but thought the better of it. Yeah, they were friends but she didn't look like she would be receptive to the comforting gesture. At least not from him. He pulled his arm back awkwardly then smiled wryly, "Honestly, the thought of facing off against Vegeta terrifies me but Piccolo has a point."

"And with all seven of us having gotten stronger, who knows! We might stand a chance this time," Krillin ever the optimist was already hovering in the air.

As the last of the Z Fighters disappeared from view, ChiChi and Bulma were once again left to clean up the mess. Kami, it's like nothing has changed. The men go off to try to kill themselves getting stronger while the women stayed behind, twiddling their thumbs hoping for things to work out. Well _fuck that_!

The two women climbed into the air-car and drove back to Capsule Corporation, passing the trip in silence until ChiChi asked, "So what do we do now?"

"We gather the Dragon Balls."

"We're really going to let him make his wish?"

"What choice do we have? And besides, I owe him that much. If it wasn't for Vegeta, I wouldn't have been able to get to the Grand Elder and Frieza might have gotten his creepy mitts on their Dragon Balls. You might not believe me but the bastard who purged our world is the lesser evil."

ChiChi looked doubtful, "Not that I don't have faith in my husband or son, or the others, but what's to stop the Saiyan from purging the planet again after he gets his wish?"

Bulma shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "He... he swore an oath on his people's honor that if I let him have his wish, he'll leave Earth alone for good." She conveniently left out the part where said oath was made under duress, with potential death by exploding spaceship looming in the background.

"And you believed him?" ChiChi snorted.

If Bulma didn't have the burden of Vegeta's memories, she would have outright laughed at how ludicrous it all sounded. Since she did, she answered, "Yes, I believed him."

"But do you trust him?"

"Oh _he_ may leave Earth well enough alone but after that..." she struggled to find a proper description of the recent invaders, "Dance troupe of his came and started tearing shit up? Yeah, clearly we're gonna need a backup plan."

"Anything I can do to help?" the dark-haired mother offered.

"You can help gather the Dragon Balls so I have more time to work on my special project."

Any alien stupid enough to think that the people of Earth weren't going to put up a fight was in for a nasty surprise.

* * *

Somewhere in the Northern Mountains, a monitoring system exploded. The ensuing fire damaged sensitive equipment, destroyed precious samples, and (once the flames were doused) made an already angry man even angrier.

"Back to square one! And just as I'd gotten new data from those aliens!"

But he wasn't going to be deterred so easily. It wouldn't be the first time that he would have to start all over again, and as far as setbacks went, at least he still had a roof over his head and he wasn't trying out outrun gunshots like last time. He was sure there would be _some_ surviving data. Perhaps not complete nor in digital form but he remembered dumping hand-written notes somewhere in the basement along with the rejects and the failures of his previous projects.

This knowledge did nothing to ease his temper as he set to work, cleaning and sorting, ranting about it all the while and taking far longer than he would have liked. _Blast this weak body!_

He was tempted to awaken one of the rejects, what with menial labor being the only they were good for. But that required energy and until he was certain of what could be salvaged, what needed repairs, and what belonged to the scrap heap, he would have to conserve every bit of his home's emergency power.

Hours passed, the sun had set, and with the numerous breathers he needed to take, he'd only managed to get a third of the work done. And there was still the matter of restarting the main system, which was a chore in and of itself. It was a gargantuan thing, easily his greatest invention and every bit as brilliant as its creator and apparently every bit as physically weak. If he was going to restart it, he might as well rebuild and improve on it.

But that was going to take time and money. Damn it, did he have enough of both? He checked his finances and his eyes narrowed at the total.

"Going to have to put the rest of my projects on hold. Can't afford to build from scratch this time," he growled, "If I ever find the bitch that caused that overload..."

* * *

A month of cryo-sleep later, Guldo and Jeice arrived at planet Tsiru. There was no waiting for a dramatic entrance, no synchronized exit for the remaining Ginyu Force members. The instant their pods touched down, they were out of their spacecrafts marching down the hallways towards the audience chamber, demanding that Vegeta see them "Right now, you got that, boyo?"

The personnel they encountered were insisting they be looked over by the medical staff first, eyeing the numerous bruises darkening all over Jeice's scarlet body as well as the way one of Guldo's arm was twisted the wrong way round.

Until a reserved voice asked, "Were they using the life-support system on their return flight?"

"N-no they were not, Mr. Jerold," one of the personnel answered.

"Then their injuries do not require immediate medical attention," the lanky Bas waved away the fussing personnel and gestured for Jeice and Guldo to follow him. "Lord Vegeta finished his training regimen sooner than expected. You have an hour to present your findings, but if necessary I can arrange his schedule to accommodate an extension of up to thirty minutes."

"We don't need an hour to tell him we've found Earth," Jeice sneered.

"But he will want a full account of your actions. Your past exploits show that you are not in the habit of slaying your teammates and given that you are missing two of your members, a battle must have taken place," Jerold's gait was brisk as he tapped at his datapad, "He will be interested to learn what became of Recoome and Burter and particularly what sort of warrior could fell the likes of them."

"Why? So he can add them to our team? I'd rather die than let those backwater bumpkins become a member of the Ginyu Force!" Guldo said.

"That's _if_ we remain the Ginyu Force for much longer." A contemplative look crossed Jeice's face. "The way I see it, we might become the Jeice Force."

"What?! No way! I'll play you rock-paper-scissor for the leader role!"

"Yeah right, you'll just use your time-stop trick to cheat! Jerold, was it? You sound like you know a lot, who do you think will become the next leader?"

Jerold's primary pair of eyes stared at Guldo while the secondary pair stared at Jeice. He sighed and shook his head. "You needn't concern yourselves about things beyond your scope of work. But your squad is more likely to be dissolved than be assigned new members. Squabbling over who will inherit the leadership role is a moot point."

"D-dissolved?! We are members of a highly trained, extremely deadly task force, you bloody four-eyed freak!" Jeice yelled then quickly added, "No offense, Guldo."

"None taken, Jeice."

Jerold shrugged. "You asked me for my opinion and I gave it to you. Your fate invariably lies in Lord Vegeta's hands. Perhaps he will see value in renewing your contract."

When they entered the audience chamber, Jeice and Guldo felt a shudder of dread ripple through them. It was not all too different from when they first met Frieza and felt the Tsirunian's massive power. Only this time they didn't have the benefit of being in good standing.

"Report," Vegeta ordered from King Cold's ridiculously over-sized throne.

Jeice refrained from mentioning the unsuccessful parts of their mission, going straight for the planet's coordinates and the time it would take for them to travel back before finally telling the Saiyan of the events on Earth. "At first we thought it was the wrong planet because it didn't look purged. Then we ended up facing off against the local fighters. We would've sent word sooner but this bitch made our scouters explode over the comm. link."

"You didn't see her, did you?"

"No, Lord Vegeta. Just heard her voice."

Guldo strained to catch what the Saiyan muttered beneath his breath, it sounded something like _Wouldn't be stupid enough to show her face_. Apart from that, Vegeta simply sat listening, no flicker of emotion crossing his features even as Jeice gave a less humiliating account of their fight, making it sound as if the Ginyu Force was evenly matched rather than overwhelmingly outclassed. But as the Brench described the fighters, the startling way their abilities exceeded the readings on the scouters, Guldo caught in the edge of his hearing the sound of solid, petrified bone being pulverized. Both pairs of his eyes spotted hairline cracks on the throne's armrest where the Saiyan's hands gripped.

"While the Earthlings were distracted with their leader prattling on about mercy and honor, Guldo and I escaped so we could complete our mission." No sense in telling Vegeta that _after_ the Earthling leader finished prattling on about mercy and honor, he actually ordered the rest of the fighters to stand down and allow Jeice and Guldo to leave unharmed.

Vegeta said nothing. His face was unreadable as he rose to feet and growled out, "I'll deal with you after I return from Earth."

"You're not taking us with you?" Guldo demanded feeling robbed not of his vengeance on the accursed Earthlings but of being witness to their destruction.

The Saiyan gave them a hard appraising look, turned on his heels, and answered, "No."

And that was that. No explanations, no commendations, no new teammates or rewards to make up for the year they wasted on some intergalactic wild goose chase. Just guards escorting them out of the audience room and instructions from the lanky Bas aide to "Go see the cartographers to update the star charts and coordinates, then visit the medical wing when you have the time," as if their physical condition meant absolutely nothing to the Planet Trade Organization.

Jeice swore under his breath, his accent thickening to the point Guldo could only understand one word out of every five. He balled his hands into fists, willing himself to calm down enough as he muttered, "Cold owes us for all the humiliation we've been through!"

"Do I now?"

Jeice blanched, turning round to face Frieza's father and stammering, "Y-your Majesty! How long have you-"

"Long enough," King Cold gave them both calculating looks. "Have either of you gotten any closer to figuring out what is so important about this planet?"

Guldo shook his head, "None, your Majesty! And we've been to the dump itself!"

"Maybe you boys just need a second look." Cold grinned when his scouter alerted him of an incoming call, "Ah my son, excellent timing, I was just about to call you. There's been a slight change in our plans."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** SAD stands for Search And Destroy while SAR stands for Search and Retrieve/Rescue but given the Ginyu Force's attitude they are definitely more of a retrieval unit XD Also, I'm so sorry for the mess that is chapter two. I've rewritten it I don't know how many times and I'm still not satisfied with it. I have to make do with this or else I would be forever stuck and never start chapter three. Although the outline for _that_ chapter giving me hell right now so, uh, it'll be some time before I get to that x.x

Thank you to **nancy103** , **SaiyanPrince541** , **Boonie91** , **jennifer975** , and to the guests who left a review. I will do my best with this fic ;w;


	3. A Queen's Ransom

**Prompt:** Black Knight / White Knight  
 **Chapter Three:** A Queen's Ransom

 **Warning:** Some violence ahead.

With the exception of Vegeta and his Bas aide, the men riding the battle-cruiser spent most of the month-long journey to Earth in cryo-sleep. Even enroute to another planet, the prince was still the leader of the Planet Trade Organization. He didn't have the luxury of leaving the responsibility in someone else's hands and he sure as hell didn't trust King Cold.

Once the large ship's estimate time of arrival had whittled down to a few hours wait, the battle-cruiser's stasis pods roused the warriors slumbering within. The crew took up their stations and after finalizing yet another arrangement between planets under his control, Vegeta settled in the captain's chair. He resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the armrest in impatience, folding his arms across his chest instead now that he could _see_ Earth on the monitor.

The sight of the blue planet made his tail wind tighter around his waist as anger at the woman's treachery bubbled up.

 _The Saiyan initially listened to Jeice's mission report with calculated calm. He didn't give it much thought at first how the Ginyu Force found Earth wasn't completely devoid of life. The woman did flee with the entire population of planet Namek. But as the Brench's report progressed and the orange-skinned man further detailed the opponents they faced off against, Vegeta began to silently seethe. His grip on the throne of petrified bone tightened with each passing second until the armrests threatened to crumble beneath his fingers._

That bitch. That scheming, lying, traitorous bitch! _He fumed._ How _dare_ she lie about the Dragon Balls being lost!

 _It wasn't having his wish stolen that enraged Vegeta. Truth be told he wasn't certain whether he wanted immortality any more but that wasn't the point. It was the_ principle _of the thing. He'd sworn on his honor as the Prince of all Saiyans that he would leave her world be if she gave him the wish from Earth's Dragon Balls._

 _True, he had gone back on his word once or twice before but she couldn't have known that. How dare she_ doubt _him._

 _There could have been a logical explanation behind her deception but Vegeta wasn't feeling generous enough to consider them. Especially when he'd gone through all this to find her just so he could give the woman her purged home-world. That he had done so only because he wanted to absolve himself of his debt to the woman didn't make the gesture any less sincere (or troublesome.)_

 _The woman had him at her mercy after Zarbon beat him to within an inch of his life. She could have made good with her threat of using her dangerous little weapon on him, either outright killing him the way she had the blue officer or rendering Vegeta's Ki unusable._

 _Instead, the Earthling had dragged his ass to a regeneration tank and had him healed. And though he was loath to admit it, the resulting surge in his strength had given him enough power to openly challenge Frieza. Otherwise, he would have fled from planet Namek and could still well be on the run, trying to stay below the radar, and hiding from the Tsirunian. He wouldn't have realized his destiny of becoming a Super Saiyan nor would he be ruling the Planet Trade Organization._

 _The very thought of owing her his life, his freedom from the lizard tyrant, and his honor did not sit well with him._

 _Eventually, Jeice's report wound down and with tremendous self-control the Saiyan reigned in his desire to shoot the messenger. He dismissed the two remaining members of the Ginyu Force, declaring he'll deal with them once he returned from Earth. And by_ deal with _he meant blow up the frozen, desolate planet along with King Cold and the rest of Frieza's wretched race._

 _Vegeta made his way to the docking bay and found Jerold waiting for him._

 _The lanky alien was typing something in his datapad while he spoke. "Lord Vegeta, the battle-cruiser is being refueled and detailed, and supplies are being loaded as we speak. Your strongest Soldiers have been informed to gear up and be onboard within the hour -err," Jerold saw the dangerous look in Vegeta's eyes and quickly amended "Thirty minutes."_

 _"Why would I bother waiting for a massive ship when I can leave immediately in a one-man fighter pod?" Sometimes, Vegeta wondered why he'd taken on the Bas as his aide. The lanky alien's power level, though substantial when compared to the average Soldier, barely reached that of Zarbon's in his pretty form._

 _"With all due respect, Lord Vegeta, you're the leader of the PTO. Your position requires a certain amount of gravitas. A fighter pod is hardly befitting someone of your status," Jerold explained. "Also, the video-screens on those things are deplorable and the automated transcript program keeps dying mid-operation. I'll have to manually take down the minutes of your audiences for the sake of efficiency."_

 _Ah, yes, now Vegeta remembered. No power in this universe would ever make managing documentation the least bit engaging for the Saiyan. The Bas' true calling appeared to be handling paperwork and navigating through the twists and turns of bureaucratic hell. True, Vegeta still read through all the reports to ensure he wasn't being played for a fool, but Jerold was proving himself a dependable asset._

 _Though Vegeta wouldn't quite go so far as to think the Bas was trustworthy. Because no one was truly trustworthy._

 _Especially not the woman_ , Vegeta groused, bringing his thoughts full circle. And so he here was, seated in the captain's chair of the battle-cruiser, flying closer to the blue world the woman called home. He let out a slow measure of air to calm himself down and eased his grip on the armrests.

"We will be making planet-fall in a few moments. Brace yourselves for impact," the humanoid navigator said as he initiated the landing sequence. The shields took the brunt of the heat from entry while rockets emerged and activated to slow their descent and cushion their landing. The ship's claw-like legs extended, the tips digging and anchoring them onto the rocky ground.

Even before the ship's sensors detected an approaching cluster of life-signs, Vegeta had already risen from his seat and was making his way to the exit. Jerold and his men were hot on his heels, the hum of blasters charging and the clatter of scouters being activated echoing through the ship's corridor.

The Saiyan paid his men no mind. He focused instead on the handful of powerful beings heading fast towards his location. Because amid the high levels, he detected the familiar tiny, insignificant Ki-signature of the woman.

* * *

For the past two months, Bulma worked round the clock. With additional material she salvaged from the alien invaders' pods, her project was progressing much quicker. She hadn't finished stress testing the shields and the limits of the cloaking features, what with her friends far too busy with their training. And she hadn't worked out all the bugs in the energy conversion or conservation, the power cells still drained out faster than she liked. But the heiress couldn't help but take pride in the finished device and how it looked nothing like the weapon it was supposed to be.

In its standby mode, Bulma might simply be trying to revive the trend of chunky jewelry. But once activated? The blue-haired genius would be lying if she said she wasn't even the tiniest bit excited to see it in action. Bulma also made sure there would be a safety measure in case said device fell into the wrong hands because paranoia was a hard thing to shake off. Or rather that had been _next_ on the agenda. Because right now, with her surveillance satellite system alerting her to the approach of a particularly large spacecraft, the next thing on her agenda was to put the device to a field test. And that involved dealing with an undoubtedly angry Saiyan who may or may not vaporize her on sight.

Talk about working under pressure.

When the computer finished calculating the possible landing sites, Bulma got into an air-car and drove off at full throttle before any of the Z Fighters realized what she was up to. It didn't take long until Yamcha was flying right alongside her vehicle, demanding to know if she was crazy and what the fuck she thought she was doing. She ignored him, secure with the knowledge that if he tried anything he risked crashing her air-car. When the shouts of concern went into stereo-mode Bulma realized Goku and Gohan had caught up with her.

Maybe it was just pettiness on her part but she waved at them and pretended she couldn't hear them over the roar of her vehicle's engines or through the domed plexiglass of her windshield. But then Piccolo did that sneaky Namekian telepathic talk (probably at Kami's insistence) and she was forced to acknowledge their demands.

Acknowledge not agree with because they've _got_ to be delusional if they thought she trusted them not to fuck up this encounter like the last one.

 _Let me try settling this diplomatically first_ , she said to Piccolo.

 _You must have a death-wish,_ the Namekian snorted but he was audibly amused.

 _Pot calling the kettle black,_ she said in singsong.

 _Do as you wish, human. I care not for your life. I only do this to have Kami cease his badgering._

 _You're a real charmer, Piccolo. I can totally see why ChiChi speaks of you the way she does,_ the blue-haired woman mentally snickered before suddenly landing her air-car. She hadn't even turned off the engine when she heard Goku knocking against the wing and his muffled order of "Bulma, go back to Capsule Corp."

She sighed and climbed of her vehicle, encapsulating it and staying put in defiance of her oldest friend's wish. "I'm going to have to say no to that, Goku."

"But Miss Bulma, it's not safe here," said Gohan, ever polite even in the face of danger, which at this moment was the heiress being told to do something she _clearly_ didn't want to do.

"This coming from the seven-year-old kid." Bulma blatantly ignored Yamcha pointing out how said seven-year-old was a demi-Saiyan and was several thousand times stronger than her. She placed her hands on her hips, and her tone sharpened to a drill sergeant's bark, "Listen up, the only reason Vegeta is coming here is for his wish on the Dragon Balls. And because _I_ promised him that he could have it, _I_ have to hold my end of the bargain."

"But he _can't_ have his wish-"

"Yes, I'm _very_ aware of that, Krillin. But it's my responsibility to break the news to him. And besides, none of us would be in this mess if a certain _someone_ ," she gave Goku a withering look, "Hadn't let those space clowns go back to tell Vegeta where Earth is." Her blue eyes were still fixed on the Earth-raised Saiyan when she continued, "Just like you asked us all to trust you, I now ask you to put your trust me, Goku."

Goku didn't back down from her glare but he looked like he was having an argument with himself. In the end, he nodded, "Alright, but at the first sign things get too dangerous, Yamcha?"

"You know I'll do everything I can to protect her," the scarred fighter solemnly said.

Somehow, Bulma couldn't bring herself to meet her ex-boyfriend's eyes when she agreed to Goku's terms.

Then the battle-cruiser landed a little over a mile away and her friends promptly took to the sky, leaving her behind.

 _Because of course,_ she thought with a roll of her eyes. For Kami's sake, did they really think she wasn't going to chase after them?

* * *

Bulma eventually caught up with the rest of the Z Fighters, not that she needed to keep pace with them. They were headed for the same place and Vegeta wasn't even _trying_ to hide his arrival. She would have bitched at her friends for trying to ditch her except the battle-cruiser's doors were opening and the silhouette with familiar upswept hair both commanded her attention and stole her breath away.

The sound of numerous footsteps echoed behind him as several bipedal aliens armed to the teeth with blasters and hand-cannons marched up behind the Saiyan. They kept their distance from their leader as he strode forward, breaking away from the squadron while they stood at attention by the platform.

Vegeta wasn't trying to downplay his rage in the least and from within her periphery, Bulma could see Chiatozu, Krillin, and Yamcha trembling in fear. Maybe if she could sense Ki she would be scared out of her mind as well, shaking in her boots at his approach or the deadly promise in his glower.

 _Nah._ She probably wouldn't back down even then. She'd faced him down before. She sure as hell wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower from him again. Once was enough. Still, her heart began to jackhammer against her chest when the Saiyan's eyes locked with hers.

"And what brings you to Earth, Vegeta?" Bulma greeted, channeling her mother of all people because he probably wouldn't be expecting that.

He studied her with deep suspicion but stalked up to her with casual menace, growling in that low baritone of his, "You know what I'm here for, woman."

"You're here for your wish," Bulma said, sounding as flippant as ever and refraining from exposing too much detail about the mystical spheres in case the aliens Vegeta brought with him had sensitive hearing. She propped a hand against her hip and continued, "Well, funny thing is, you can't have-"

His fingers gripped the front of her jacket and had her dangling inches from the ground before she could take another breath.

"Wrong answer," Vegeta said. The threat edging each syllable was familiar, nostalgic even. The heat pooling in his fist, however, was new.

All around Bulma was the high-pitched whine of gathering energy. Some were in open palms and fingertips, Ki concentrating into spheres or disks or the sparks preceding a beam ready to let loose. Some were in muzzles and power packs, in tiny engines waiting to fuel hand-mounted cannons, and blasters about to spew their charge all but for the pull of their trigger.

 _Kami, it's like being in the weirdest standoff of the century._ The protective display from her friends would have been sweeter if the blue-haired genius could bring herself to factor out their warrior's pride from their gesture.

Bulma drew a deep breath and ordered, "Everyone, back the fuck down!" Her voice carried in the wind, the force of her command cowing most of her friends and even some of Vegeta's men into obeying.

Reluctantly, the Z Fighters did as she commanded, their energy withdrawing back within their bodies. The defenders of Earth may not have their Ki attacks at the ready, but they remained in their fighting stance and they kept their focus fixed on the Saiyan and what his next move would be.

When Vegeta signaled for his men to stand down, the armored aliens kept their guard up, their wary gazes shifting from the humans to their leader.

Unperturbed with being held aloft, Bulma fixed hard eyes on the Saiyan. "Vegeta, maybe you should let me _finish_ my sentences for once instead of immediately flying off the handle! Kami, it's like we're still on the ship to planet Namek."

"Be grateful we aren't, woman, because I would have killed you by now."

"Oh for-" she grit her teeth and forced down an indignant groan, "I was going to say you can't have your wish _right now_. Your stupid dance troupe messed up a huge chunk of my city and killed a lot of people so we had to fix that first. Why don't you fly back off into space and come back in a year? Everything should be ready by then."

"What sort of fool do you take me for? How can I be certain you're telling me the truth this time?"

"As certain as I can be that you would have _kept_ your promise," she shot back. "Look, we didn't know how much time we had before you got here. For all we knew the round trip from here to whatever planet you were using as a base would take over a year. No sense in letting a wish go to waste."

He said nothing. Did nothing. The Saiyan simply stood there, hand still gripping Bulma by the front of her jacket but his fingers didn't so much as twitch to snap her neck. Bulma took this as a positive sign.

"And should I take my leave, what guarantee do I have that you won't try to escape during my absence?"

Blue eyes widened in surprise before Bulma began to laugh, the heel of her hand pressing against her eyes. The growl from Vegeta indicated that this was not the reaction he was expecting. Truthfully, Bulma wasn't sure what the hell was so funny either. She chalked it up to nerves, stress, the impending doom of her planet, or hell her own inevitable demise.

"This planet is my _home_. I did not spend a year and a half putting up with Zarbon or his Soldiers or _your_ insufferable attitude only to up and ditch Earth at the first sign of danger. And besides, maybe if you haven't noticed we're not exactly a space-faring race." Her fingers glided from forehead to scalp, combing back her aqua bangs, ensuring the Saiyan an unobstructed view of the amusement and exasperation in her eyes as she asked, "Where the hell else do you think we can _go_?"

She held her breath as Vegeta seemed to consider her words, and she would have missed the confusion that flickered across his hard features had she not been studying him so intently.

"Lord Vegeta," a quiet voice piped up from behind Vegeta and Bulma could see a lanky, four-eyed alien had braved the distance between ship and Saiyan.

"Not now, Jerold," Vegeta warned.

"I'm afraid it's rather urgent," he said, a hand held up to his scouter. "The scanners detected another battle-cruiser headed for our position. The navigator has made several attempts to make contact but they've all been ignored."

Bulma's heartbeat raced, liking neither what the alien said nor how he sounded worried.

But Vegeta didn't seem too concerned. In fact, the corners of his mouth were quirked in a fang-bared grin as an identical battle-cruiser landed within sight of the ship. And when the ship's occupants emerged, he threw his head back in laughter.

* * *

All around him, Vegeta could feel the Ki of his men bottom out in dread while those of Earth's warriors spiked in terror. It wasn't because of the battalion of underlings that marched in synchronized cadence towards them, even the weakest of the human fighters would have no trouble dealing with the mercenaries.

The two figures in the lead however.

He let go of the woman and turned his back to her as if she was inconsequential. His tail unwound from his waist and shoved her back, sending her stumbling, uncaring of her indignant squawk for being dismissed so easily. Almost immediately Vegeta flew off to meet King Cold and the other purple Tsirunian strolling ahead of the battalion.

"I wondered when you'd make another attempt at my life, old lizard," Vegeta said with the nonchalance of small talk while his men and the Earthling warriors began to arrive.

"Really, Vegeta, of all the places in the universe you could have chosen to die on you pick this dump," Cold sighed in theatrical disappointment before turning his attention to the handful of aliens serving under the Saiyan. "I'll triple whatever it is Vegeta is paying you to work for me instead. Any takers?"

Not a single man took up Cold on his offer.

"Wow, you mean you're all loyal to Vegeta?" the innocent awe in Kakkarot's voice nearly made everyone cringe in second-hand embarrassment.

"Goku, there's a distinct difference between loyalty and fear," the Namekian said.

"Quite," Cold agreed.

"Now that we've established _that_ ," Vegeta said and pointed his palm at Cold's battalion. "Here's _my_ counter offer." It was one they couldn't refuse. Or survive.

Before the dust settled, a bored voice said, "See, father, this is why I don't bother to bring cannon fodder."

"I suppose your little task force is all you need, Cooler?" Cold laughed.

As if on cue, music began to play from the battle-cruiser's speakers, eliciting a groan of disbelief from some of the Earthlings. While Cooler's special task force began their own choreography of introductions, stopping and restarting thanks in part to the begrudging additions of Jeice and Guldo, Vegeta suddenly realized Kakkarot was beside him.

"Are you here to destroy Earth?" the Earth-raised Saiyan asked.

"And what would you do if I were?" The prince gave him a cold smile.

"I'd stop you." No hesitation, no doubt.

Vegeta couldn't help himself. He laughed.

The sound drew the attention of the Tsirunians. "What's this? Planning to join forces against me and my father?"

The Saiyan prince had nothing to prove to Frieza's kin and intended to ignore the taunt until an amusing thought occurred to him. He turned to Kakkarot, "Tell you what, as one Saiyan to another, I'll consider sparing Earth if you can put Cooler in his place."

"Oh as that all?" It was Kakkarot's turn to laugh, "I was already planning on beating _him_ anyway."

Before Vegeta could react to the third-class' audacity, the Namekian launched a beam at Cooler's _still dancing_ armored squad, instantly felling Jeice and signaling the rest of Earth's fighters to attack.

Vegeta's men remained at attention, waiting for their master's command to join in the fray. No order came, much to the aliens' relief especially as they watched the Earthlings make short work of Cooler's and formerly Frieza's elite warriors.

The Saiyan only observed with mild interest the way the former weaklings had gotten... less weak.

"What was it you were saying, son?" Cold smirked unkindly at his eldest child as the bodies of the special task force dropped to the ground.

"Oh just that the time for talking is _over_ ," the younger Tsirunian growled and lunged forward, incapacitating the Earthlings with the smallest of strikes. But when Cooler prepared to plunge his hand into the triclops' heart, Kakkarot had grabbed him by the wrist.

"Hey, Vegeta!" the third-class called out, "Are you really going to leave Earth alone if I beat this guy?"

"Of course."

An enormous surge of Ki began flowing around Kakkarot. In the blink of an eye, Cooler was sent careening into a rock formation several miles away. The Tsirunian was quick to retaliate, and it seemed that Cooler and Kakkarot were evenly matched, trading blow per blow at blinding speed.

Vegeta felt his fists clench at the power, heard his blood sing for a worthy battle, and almost, _almost_ joined in to show those two what _true_ strength was. It wasn't until he caught haggard breathing did he finally notice that the woman was at his side, doubled over and panting for breath.

"W-what. What the fuck. Did you. Tell Goku?" she demanded in between gasps.

"A reminder of what Saiyans are," he said, eyes still trained on the exchange of strikes and near-hits. Then he felt it, Cooler losing his cool at having some no-name fighter from some insignificant planet manage to keep up with him. The rage on the Tsirunian's face reminded Vegeta of his own when Kakkarot first managed to draw his royal blood.

There were cheers from some of the Earthling warriors, naturally from the half-breed whelp and the diminutive bald fighter. The Namekian, already on his knees, simply watched with begrudging respect while the others were just regaining consciousness.

But Vegeta knew the fight wouldn't last for much longer. Cooler was going to transform and when he does, it would be the end of Kakkarot. The prince was half right. When Cooler did transform and proceed to beat the buffoon to within an inch of his life, the Tsirunian withheld the killing blow. And it was obvious from the menacing glow in those red eyes that it was not done out of mercy. Cooler raised one arm towards the sky, energy beginning to gather above his palm. The alien turned his attention to Vegeta, "I was hoping to save this form as a surprise for when I killed you. But no matter, I will still get my revenge for the death of my little brother."

"Such a strong family bond," Vegeta scoffed, "Is that why your father offered to abdicate his throne to me instead of you?"

"Oh that was all part of the plan," Cold smoothly said. "It makes for a much better space opera, don't you think? The rightful heir that is Cooler returning home to planet Tsiru, willing to put his life on the line in order to challenge and slay the Simian usurper in a battle to the death. And naturally, Cooler will win."

"Whoever wrote that tired old plot should be fired. They got the ending wrong," the woman snorted, neither impressed nor frightened.

Cold looked taken aback, "I beg your pardon? I came up with that _tired old plot_ ," he growled low. "And while I admit we may have gone off script, the ending _will_ still have Cooler killing Vegeta."

"Along with the rest of the pests on this miserable planet," Cooler graciously declared. "I'm sure this technique is quite familiar to you, Saiyan princeling. After all, this was what my brother used to destroy your home-world."

Vegeta had been expecting the threat and the taunt. It was the only reason why he hadn't immediately transformed into a Super Saiyan. Cooler and Cold would be given enough rope until they hanged themselves with it before he would act. He merely smiled in response. It was a mirthless, wicked smile, one that promised pain everlasting or at least for an _unnecessarily_ long time.

All around him, he felt the Ki signatures of Earth's defenders flare in anger, in fear, in disbelief as the massive sphere that Cooler held aloft continued to grow. He felt the woman's tiny spark of outrage and...

The Saiyan sharply turned to the side. Dark eyes grew wide when he realized she'd disappeared and he couldn't sense her Ki. Had Cold or Cooler done anything to cause her disappearance? Vegeta didn't think it likely, he hadn't seen or heard them move but the Earthlings did not have his keen senses.

"B-Bulma!" the scarred fighter gasped.

Vegeta could feel Kakkarot's feeble energy suddenly skyrocket in rage at the prospect of her death. He saw the burning aura around the third-class flicker almost... almost _golden!_ Until he heard an irate sigh followed by a familiar high-pitched hum.

A thin bolt of energy shot out at Cooler who laughed at the tiny beam. With contemptuous ease, one arm swung to backhand it away. Except the mere _touch_ had the Tsirunian's ball of planetary destruction dissipating and Cooler falling to the ground in violent spasms.

The woman seemingly _blinked_ back into existence. She stood over the retching Tsirunian, one arm encased in wires and glowing orbs, and a thin trail of smoke wafted from her fingertip. There was no grand speech of revenge from her lips, no wild, beautifully manic grin that sang of carnage and feral brutality adorning her face.

In fact she looked annoyed more than anything. As if she was in the middle of some chore rather than having successfully rendered one of the most feared warlords of the universe helpless. She fired a second beam, bursting Cooler from the inside out, sending body parts scattering every which way, and showering purple blood on everyone within a five foot radius.

"I told you, didn't I? You got the ending wrong," she said with the same flippant ease she had used to welcome Vegeta. When she turned to face Cold she was all radiant smiles and gracious poise, Cooler's blood a beautiful war paint on her pale skin.

The old lizard was stunned. But Cold did not maintain control of an empire that spanned galaxies if he wasn't quick on his feet. "That was _splendid_ , my dear. Absolutely inspiring! I never once thought an Earther-"

"Earthling," she corrected.

"-An Earthling was capable of slaughtering my eldest son," he continued, matching the woman's smile with one of his own. Cold strolled forward, a hand outstretched towards her, "I may not look it, but I've always wanted a daughter."

There was a flicker of light at the very ends of Cold's fingers. But the bone-breaking grip Vegeta held the old lizard's wrist with quickly snuffed that out.

"You overstep your bounds, old one. She's not yours to threaten. She's _mine_ ," the Saiyan growled so low even the Tsirunian was hard pressed to hear.

Cold quickly found it difficult to respond without a head.

* * *

Bulma couldn't believe it. Oh whom was she kidding? She _totally_ could believe that when the second battle-cruiser landed all her friends would up and ditch her to fly off after Vegeta. Yeah, yeah they were worried about her safety and didn't want her to be in danger blah blah blah but Kami damn it! The Saiyan hadn't given her his word yet and she wasn't going to leave anything to chance this time around.

It should just be a short flight in her air-car but even at this distance she could tell traveling by vehicle was out of the question. The battalion of aliens would have no problem shooting her down, which meant she was going to have to go on foot.

"Memo to self, after building a fail-safe device for this baby, build something that can mimic Ki-powered flight," she muttered.

Before she got to the second landing site, there had been one large explosion, the Z Fighters had done the world of song and dance a huge favor, and Goku was talking to Vegeta. Then the rest of the Z Fighters started dropping like flies and Goku was forced to save them from the purple guy.

The name Cooler bubbled up to the surface and Bulma tried not to grimace that she was accessing things from the Saiyan's memories again.

She picked up the pace when her oldest friend and Cooler suddenly disappeared. Okay, they didn't exactly disappear because she could hear the telltale sounds of two people fighting, and the landscape was getting a makeover, making it clear that her eyes just couldn't keep up.

Demanding an answer from Vegeta about what the two Saiyans had been talking about proved useless. And her pride wasn't going to let her ask him what the hell was going on and who was winning. She found the answer to that question when Goku's badly battered body appeared on the ground with a dull thud.

Bulma couldn't believe it. She'd never seen Goku lose before. Yes, she knew Vegeta had not only beaten but also _killed_ her oldest friend nearly two years ago. But it was one thing to objectively know something and it was entirely another to see it happen in front of you. Her heartbeat sounded painfully loud in her ears as the reptilian aliens spoke about families and revenge and did that big one just say _space opera_? The destruction of her world, the death of her friends, all done for the sake of fucking _melodrama_?

She wasn't impressed and said as much. But talk is cheap, actions spoke louder than words, and while she was on the subject of tired clichés, she was going to put her money where her mouth is. The giant ball of death was growing far too big for Bulma's liking and with a twist on the thick metal bracelet on her wrist, the cloaking mechanism of her weapon activated. The wires snaked out and around her arm, locking onto her limb while she set the power level to about a third.

The heiress wasn't thinking of anything but getting to Cooler as close and as quickly as possible. It wouldn't matter if they were wearing scouters or could sense Ki, her approach should be undetected because of her weapon. And hell, even if she wasn't she was heavily banking on the aliens' superiority complex over inferior species and would underestimate her.

She took aim and fired the Ki-nullifying bolt. Within her cocoon of invisibility, she smirked when the alien didn't even think to dodge. It wasn't a particularly lethal-looking beam after all but that was the _point_. Wordlessly, she watched him drop to the ground and de-cloaked when she was standing right beside his retching body. What came next wasn't going to be pleasant. Unlike with Zarbon there was no sense of satisfaction of having exacted her revenge. Bulma didn't think it would be easy for her to deliver the killing blow.

 _Then again,_ she thought, staring down at Cooler the way she would at a bug that had just crawled out from a hole in the wall, _fucker threatened to blow my up world._

She fired a second time, and with the settings on maximum, the reaction was much more _violent_ than she expected.

The heiress forced the wave of nausea down by smiling and channeling her mother of all people because no one would ever expect that, Bulma included. A bit of her pride snuck into her voice though as she declared just how wrong Cold's original ending was. The hostess' smile froze on her face when he started to praise her and she felt her insides burn in outrage that the alien thought she would, for one nanosecond, consider the offer of-

Vegeta blew up Cold's head.

Bulma fell on all fours and promptly threw up.

After she finished emptying the contents of her stomach, she wiped away spittle and bile with the sleeve of her jacket, smearing alien blood across her face in process. _There's no saving these clothes,_ she absently decided, eyes staring down at her blood-drenched garment until a flicker of golden light glinting on the wires of her weapon caught her attention.

Bulma looked up and saw someone looming over her. It took her a moment to recognize that the man, despite his gold hair and teal eyes, was Vegeta. And he was fierce and fearsome and power incarnate. She felt like being on her knees wasn't enough, she felt like she should be bowing, which was ridiculous because _like hell_ would she bow to him. Kami but he was beautiful though.

Before any of the Saiyan's memories could explain this new appearance, she realized he'd been talking to her. "C-can you repeat that?" she stammered, voice unusually small.

He looked startled then sighed irritably, "I said that since _this_ is the best your planet's so-called defenders can manage, if I intend to get my wish I can't afford to leave this planet unsupervised."

"Oh." A beat. "Wait _what_?"

* * *

Somewhere in the Northern Mountains, an angry man was torn between frustration and excitement. He eventually settled for the former as he lamented at his inadequate technology. The drones he'd been forced to rebuild since the overload were considerably less advanced than his old means of spying. It had been a hard decision to forego the auditory components in his spy drones, but a video-feed proved more useful to his needs. At least he could take comfort that the audio and video for his home's security system were still functional.

It didn't stop him from fuming over how he'd failed to gather all the necessary information, nor from bemoaning the loss of the things he _could_ have learned had he but heard the conversation between Goku and the invading aliens. The amount of new data and new samples he gathered wasn't nearly enough to soothe his anger. He couldn't _believe_ there was someone stronger than the boy who'd single handedly brought the Red Ribbon Army down.

He wanted to know more. He _ought_ to know more!

With the recent setback, there was certainly no way he had enough time to see his plans of revenge come to fruition. He considered swallowing his pride to beg for money, or peddle some of his old doodads to the black market. But no, he won't stoop to such demeaning tactics. He had more pride in himself than that!

 _It takes a real genius to make do with what meager resources one currently had at hand,_ he mentally reminded himself.

And he was, _is_ , a genius. The greatest there ever was! What did it matter that the Red Ribbon Army was nothing more than a memory to many? He'll rebuild their reputation again, just as he'll rebuild his ruined projects. No one will stop him, not that that wretched Goku nor his warrior friends. And neither will that Briefs girl nor her ingeniously destructive weapons.

He had to admit that that was a _fine_ display of violence. If he could just somehow get his hands on the device she used to obliterate the purple alien, oh the things he could do with it. His mind was already awhirl with theories and potential designs, and this was merely from conjectures. It would be better if he could look at it up close, blueprints naturally would be best but he could just as easily reverse engineer one of his own if he ever managed to get his hands on the device.

* * *

Bunny was in a tizzy, rushing from dining room to kitchen to pantry and back. She couldn't remember how long it had been since her daughter brought back this many guests. Fingers threaded along the pages of her cookbook, rejecting and considering which dishes to prepare for with the sudden influx of people.

It was all so short notice! Thank Kami she had all the best groceries, delis, and gourmet stores on speed dial and was on first name basis with their owners.

"Yes, five dozen of the dinosaur haunches -no make that sirloin cut –no! Both. Yes, I'd like both please. Oh and if you could also add in some four dozen pteranodon eggs as well? You could? And freshly laid? You sweet talker you," she giggled. "Send them over as soon as you can, please and thank you~"

"Mrs. Briefs are you sure you want to go through all this trouble for-"

"Of course I do, ChiChi. And please, call me Bunny~" the Briefs matron said, "How are those vegetable coming?"

"I've finished slicing, dicing, and chopping. But just so you know, I'm only helping you because you shouldn't be doing all this work by yourself. I don't want anything to do with those aliens."

"Now ChiChi, that's not a very nice attitude to take with our guests," Bunny gently chided, "And besides, don't you think some of them are quite good looking?"

"Mrs. Briefs! I mean, Bunny! You and I are both married women!"

"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean our eyes stop working, does it?" the blonde giggled and winked for good measure. Honestly, Bunny sometimes thought Bulma and her friends got so worked up over the _silliest_ of things.

"Hullo, dear," her husband greeted after giving her a quick peck on her cheek. "Don't mind me. I'm just showing Jerold around the place."

"Good day, Madame Briefs, Mrs. Son," the four-eyed young man (and really anyone who didn't sport a mustache or beard was a young man as far as Bunny was concerned) bowed. "This is the food preparation facility of your domicile?"

"No, silly, this is the kitchen~" Bunny giggled.

"And if you two aren't going to help with the cooking, you'll just be in the way," ChiChi growled, brandishing a knife at their guest.

"I am afraid my culinary skills are limited to adding water to re-hydrate our rations. But I shall rearrange my schedule to study if you would be so kind as to provide me instructions?" Jerold politely asked.

ChiChi only narrowed her eyes in suspicion. With her knife-holding hand, she pointed them to the door.

"Perhaps now is not the best time to ask for cooking lessons," Dr. Briefs said, smiling as he led their guest back out.

When the two men were out of earshot, Bunny turned to ChiChi, "Interesting features he has, don't you think?"

"He has four eyes if that's what you mean."

"Shame he has such dry skin."

"I think the scales are a natural trait for him."

"Are they? How wonderful for him, he must save a lot on moisturizer!"

ChiChi sighed, "Let's just focus on cooking."

"Oh yes, we still have such a lot to make for everyone." The smile on Bunny's face made it clear that she was enjoying herself. It was always so nice to have Bulma out and about rather than cooped up in her lab all the time. And Bunny enjoyed it even more when Bulma had her friends over. She would listen to them talk even if she didn't understand a thing they were saying. They were so passionate about whatever it was that she couldn't help but share in their excitement.

And like she said earlier, some of her daughter's new friends were quite good looking and eye candy was always welcome. Especially the short one with the dark flame-shaped hair. Bunny giggled to herself when she remembered how Bulma and that nice young man kept sneaking glances at each other. It was almost too cute to for words. The Briefs matron hoped their guests would be here for a long time.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** You might have noticed a bit of a tonal shift in the fic and it's totally because I recently marathoned DBZ Abridged. And yes, the angry old man is totally Dr. Gero and he's quickly becoming my second favorite villain after Frieza. What can I say? I have a soft spot for misanthropic mad scientists hell-bent on improving the world the way they see fit.

Anyway, thank you to my **Ideas Taster** for helping me wrangle this chapter into actual words (and the **BF** for putting up with my incessant and sometimes crippling self-doubt.) Thank you to **supremewizdom** , **Boonie91** , **nancy103** , **jennifer975** , and **SaiyanPrince541** for enjoying the sequel so far and for the reviews, insights, and encouraging words. And if I thought Chapter Three was hard, Chapter Four is proving a far tougher chapter to outline, let alone write. Let's hope I don't end up taking a two-year hiatus as a result x.x


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